Legacy of the Scar
by Michelle Birkby
Summary: Set after Book 4, Voldemort tests Harry, and he finds himself making a difficult choice. This is fairly dark, which is hardly surprising. It's also complete.
1. Dreams

It was the dreams that broke him. For a while he had dreamed only of Cedric, and the duel, and Wormtail's hand dropping into the cauldron, and then those dreams faded once he was back at the Dursley's. Even being back there wasn't too bad. The Dursley's avoided him, scared by the air of harsh darkness that hung around him now. And when September came, Harry was ready to return to Hogwarts.  
  
But the first night there, the dreams started all over again. Once again Harry fought through the maze. Once again he reached the portkey. But this time, when he reached for it, it wasn't Cedric grasping the other side.  
  
It was Ron.  
  
Harry screamed 'no' and fought to wake, but he had to relive it all again, every agonising second. The voice, saying 'kill the spare', and it was Ron that fell to the ground, Ron who came out of Voldemort's wand, Ron's body he dragged back to Hogwarts.  
  
Harry woke up sweating and shaking, to find Ron bending over him anxiously.  
  
"Bad dreams?" he asked, kindly. Harry nodded mutely, knowing Ron would not ask any more. Only he and Hermione had never asked, merely waited for him to tell his story, and he was far more grateful then they would ever know, to both of them.  
  
"I have chocolate." Ron said, sympathetically, and sitting cross-legged on Harry's bed, he handed him a huge chunk of chocolate. Harry smiled gratefully, broke it in half, and handed the other half to Ron.  
  
"Ta, don't mind if I do." Ron said, and sitting there in the dawn light, munching on chocolate and arguing about Quidditch tactics with his best friend, Harry almost forgot the terrifying dream. Almost. If it wasn't for the throbbing pain in his scar.  
  
*******************  
  
He wasn't going to tell Hermione. Except he hadn't counted on Hermione knowing him better than he knew himself. She took one look at him, and demanded,  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nightmare." He said softly, under his breath, glancing around to make sure no-one was listening. She winced, sympathetically, and stroked his arm absent-mindedly.  
  
"I thought those were gone." She said, frowning.  
  
"So did I. But they came back. Except last night.." he turned round to make sure Ron wasn't listening. He was over the other side of the corridor, with Ginny. Harry pulled Hermione closer into an alcove, anxious to be away from prying ears and eyes. The last thing he needed was for another rumour about his sanity -or lack of it- sweeping the school.  
  
"Last night, it wasn't Cedric in my dream, it was Ron."  
  
"Harry..." Hermione said, her voice low and gentle and reassuring.  
  
"It was awful." Harry said, staring into her eyes. Maybe if he stared there, looking down into those clear brown eyes, right down so deep he saw nothing else, he'd wouldn't remember Ron's dying scream, the crumpled pale body. "It was so real, Hermione! What if..what if somehow Voldemort's getting into my dreams?"  
  
"Look, just because magical things do happen doesn't mean everything odd has a magical explanation." Hermione said sensibly. "I know it was a horrible dream, but it was just a dream. And you're worried Voldemort will come back and kill your friends, and that's why you dreamed what you did. Its just psychology, not witch craft."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"I thought about that..but, Hermione..my scar." He said in a low urgent whisper. She reached up and pushed his messy black hair aside. Underneath, his scar glowed an angry red-hot. Hermione touched it for a moment, and Harry closed his eyes, her hand a blessed coolness, against the burning of the scar.  
  
"Maybe you should see Dumbledore." She said seriously. Harry nodded in agreement. He'd thought about that, but it was good to have Hermione's agreement. If she didn't think he was over-reacting, then he was probably ok.  
  
"What are you two muttering about?" Ron asked slightly peevishly.  
  
"Who the new Quidditch captain is going to be." Hermione lied smoothly, much to Harry's surprise. "I still can't see why it can't be Harry."  
  
"I told you, it has to be a sixth former." Ron explained, irritated, sighing deeply.  
  
"Why?" Hermione demanded, and Harry grinned. He knew she'd started this argument deliberately to distract Ron, and he was grateful. He followed them bickering all the way down the corridor.  
  
*****************  
  
He told his story again later on, in Dumbledore's office.  
  
"Miss Granger could be right." Dumbledore said. "it could simply be your mind, not Voldemort."  
  
"But sir, my scar..." Harry stammered.  
  
"Yes...have you told Ron what you dreamed?"  
  
"No sir, only Hermione."  
  
"And she suggested you come to me? Good, good. Most perceptive young lady." Dumbledore muttered, almost to himself. "Perceptive and intelligent. You do well to go to her for advice, Harry. Ronald Weasley, while a most engaging young man, does have a slight tendency to panic somewhat, mm?" Dumbledore asked, twinkling slightly. Harry smiled.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Well, my advice to you, is to carry on as normal, and see if the dreams come again..if you can bear it?" he asked, peering at Harry over the top of his glasses.  
  
"I think I must, sir." Harry said bravely, although he didn't feel brave. He felt his stomach sink at the thought of going through the dream again. "If Voldemort is trying to get to me through my dreams, I want to know."  
  
"Good. Very well, dream away, Harry Potter. And do not be afraid. I feel sure that if you, or any of your friends were truly threatened in these dreams, the intelligent Miss Granger and the courageous Mr Weasley would find a way to protect you..no matter how many school rules it broke." He smiled, Harry grinned, and left.  
  
But the reassurance Dumbledore gave him evaporated almost the moment he was out of the room. And as the day wore on, he became more and more apprehensive about the night time. Ron and Hermione, sensing this, stayed with him in the common room. The three of them sat near the fire, trying to teach Hermione the tactics of wizard chess. And the hours still ticked on, and the fire still burnt, and Ron's and Hermione's fun seemed more and more forced, until finally Hermione's eyelids dropped, and she fell asleep curled up by the fire.  
  
"Time for bed." Harry said, trying to sound relaxed and tired, and as if bed was the best place to be right now, not the terrifying ordeal he was imagining.  
  
"I suppose " Ron said, as the clock struck one. Harry draped a blanket over Hermione, lingering to make sure it was wrapped securely round her, lingering to postpone the moment he'd have to close his eyes.  
  
"C'mon'" Ron said sleepily from the stairs. Harry stayed a second, looking at Hermione's face, so peaceful in the firelight. A strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and Harry pushed it aside, absent-mindedly.  
  
"Harry." She murmured, but her eyes were still closed. She was dreaming.  
  
"Wish me sweet dreams." Harry murmured, his hand resting for a second on her cheek, then wearily he turned away and climbed the stairs.  
  
**********************  
  
At first his dreams were like any other night..Quidditch, his friends, the occasional storybook character, the odd conversation, and subconsciously Harry relaxed.  
  
Then the maze came..dark and harsh and apprehensive. Harry tried not to reach for the cup, but he couldn't hold back. Shaking he looked up, into the face opposite him, so young, so innocent, so alive.  
  
"Ginny!!!" he cried. 


	2. The Test

They tried to wake him, but couldn't. Ron shook him, and Hermione, hearing the cry down in the common room, had run straight into the boys dorm, ignoring Seamus's outraged cries, and Neville's scramble to cover up his pyjamas.  
  
"I can't wake him, Hermione." Ron said urgently.  
  
"I don't think you can." She said softly. "Not until the dream is over."  
  
"I'll stay with him." Ron told her.  
  
"I'll stay." She insisted softly. "You need to get Dumbledore." She reached out to Harry, grasping one hand in hers, and with the other gently stroking his scar. It seemed to soothe Harry, although not wake him, and he still muttered in his sleep. Ron left them like that, the other boys in the dorm understanding something dangerous and bizarre was happening, that Harry needed her.  
  
*************************  
  
Finally Harry awoke, and Hermione led him down to breakfast. He looked pale and shaken and grey and she wanted to get some hot sweet tea in him before he slipped entirely into shock. Ron and Dumbledore, having been to the dorm earlier, and found Harry in Hermione's arms, still sleeping, were waiting for him.  
  
"I have told Mr Weasley everything." Dumbledore told Harry as he arrived. Ron smiled at Harry, as pale as he was.  
  
"So it was Ginny last night?" Ron asked. Hermione made to shush him, but Harry nodded.  
  
"What's going on?" Harry asked, grasping at the mug of tea Hermione had conjured up and drinking deep.  
  
"Voldemort's testing you." Hermione said instantly, and Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"I take it you relive the events as they happened every night, only with a different ...."  
  
"Dying friend?" Harry said harshly, though he regretted speaking to Dumbledore that like that almost instantly. "Yes sir."  
  
"And every night you still battle Voldemort, and win?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"I didn't win the first time." Harry said miserably. "I didn't defeat Voldemort."  
  
"Harry, you got away alive." Hermione said gently. "Against Voldemort with his full power, that is a victory."  
  
Dumbledore nodded approvingly.  
  
"I believe Voldemort is trying to find your weakness. He believes it lies in your friends. I believe he will test you until he finds something - or someone- that will break you. That will push you to the point where you no longer have the strength of mind or will to fight him."  
  
"He won't find it." Harry insisted fiercely, and the shadows under his eyes darkened the green until his eyes were almost black.  
  
"Indeed. But he will try."  
  
"You mean Harry has to go through this every night?" Ron cried, as Hermione said,  
  
"I can mix up a potion for dreamless sleep."  
  
But Harry cried,  
  
"No!"  
  
They looked at him in surprise, except Dumbledore, who nodded to him, supportingly.  
  
"Thank you." Harry said, glancing at Ron and Hermione. "But I have to face him sooner or later. Let him test me. Now I know why, I can take it. I won't fail." He said darkly, and Hermione shivered, as if someone had walked over her grave.  
  
***********************  
  
And he didn't. Night after night he dreamed, night after night he watched his friends die, and yet still he put his friends from his mind and fought and escaped Voldemort. His cheeks became sunken, the shadows under his eyes deepened into black circles, he lost so much weight his cloak hung off him in heavy folds, yet never once did he take up Hermione's offer of a dreamless sleeping potion. Every morning he greeted them with one word..the name of the friend who had died in that night's dream, and no more was said between them about the nights. Ron continued to try to make Harry laugh, Hermione continued to try to improve Harry's grades, but Ron's jokes seemed forced, and eventually Hermione just did Harry's work as well as their own. And still the nights and the dreams went on, as if there were no end to the friends that could be killed.  
One late November afternoon, while the sun shone in a clear blue sky, but the air was sharply cold, Harry stood by the window in Dumbledore's office, staring down at the field below. Ron had borrowed his broomstick, and was trying various Quidditch moves, with Hermione holding a book, and occasionally shouting out instructions.  
  
"Last night it was Cho." Harry said softly. "If I can take that I can take anything." He said through gritted teeth.  
  
"And the night before?" Dumbledore gently enquired.   
  
"Neville. And before that Seamus, and before that..I forget. There have been so many." Harry said tiredly. "There can't be any more."  
  
"There is one." Dumbledore said, joining him at the window. Harry looked up, puzzled, then followed Dumbledore's gaze to the field where Hermione stood, her cloak and hair flying in the wind, intently watching Ron, comparing his flight to the picture in the book and frowning.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry said wonderingly. "Why have I never dreamt of Hermione?" and suddenly he felt a wave of cold wash over him, and he wrapped his cloak more securely around himself.  
  
"Perhaps because she is Muggle-born, and Voldemort considers those beneath notice. She may not even have occurred to him."  
  
"But you think.."  
  
"I think.." Dumbledore said gently. "I think maybe he has finally realised she is important to you. And maybe tonight he will test how important."  
  
"I won't fail." Harry said, no his voice shook. "I will not!" he insisted, and he left. Dumbledore stood at the window watching the boy and girl on the field until Harry joined them, draping his arm round Hermione's shoulder as she showed him the book.  
  
"But, child, which test will you not fail? For there will be more than one tonight." Dumbledore murmured to no-one in particular. On his perch, Fawkes cried, just once, ruffled his feathers, and settled down to sleep. 


	3. Broken

Harry went to bed early, anxious to face this final test. 'I will not fail, I will not fail' he insisted, ignoring the small inner voice that cried 'Not Hermione! Anyone but Hermione.'  
  
The moon shone full and clear through the window, casting a bright light across the floor. Harry stared at it for so long, afraid to close his eyes .He had a horrible feeling that if he closed his eyes tonight, he would never open them again. But eventually his eyelids fluttered closed, and the bright green fire dimmed.  
  
*********************  
  
Downstairs in the common room, Hermione sat in silence, curled up on the chair, waiting for the cry she heard every night. She had no idea who it would be tonight, but she had her suspicions. She watched the fire, and whispered,  
  
"Sweet dreams, Harry."  
  
***********************  
  
Harry stood by the cup, but he did not reach out.   
  
"I won't" he murmured.  
  
"You must." Hermione said.  
  
"No. I won't." he said, stepping back. Hermione shrugged, though she looked scared and small.  
  
"Then I'll go on alone." she said, and reached for the cup. Harry grabbed it to pull it away from her..but it was too late. They were both yanked through.  
  
They landed in the graveyard that Harry knew so well by now. He looked behind him, to the figure approaching him.  
  
"Run." Harry whispered urgently. "Run, Hermione, now, please!"  
  
"No." insisted Hermione. "I won't leave you."  
  
"Hermione, there's nothing you can do." Harry insisted, glancing back over his shoulder.  
  
"I can be here!" she snapped.  
  
"Hermione..." Harry looked back, to see the dark figure coming inexorably through the stones, coming so close so close, carrying death in its arms.  
  
"No!" Harry called, but the voice still came, as it had come every night for the past two months, as it had come the night Cedric died, and still Hermione would not run, would not leave him.  
  
'She's protecting me' he suddenly realised, and the thought cut through him. She would die for him  
  
"Kill the spare."  
  
Hermione stood there, her wand useless in her hand, neither she nor Harry able to move. She stood there, at the thing that was about to kill her, and raised her chin, defiantly, unafraid.  
  
"Kill the bastard, Harry." She hissed, as Wormtail cried the spell, and the green fire flashed through the graveyard, illuminating every dead name on every cold stone.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
But Hermione didn't move. Her eyes were wide, but empty. Harry knelt beside her, pushing the hair out of her eyes, feeling the skin cool beneath his fingers.   
  
"Hermione?" he begged.  
  
Behind him, the dream finally changed. Voldemort stood there, alone.  
  
"Will you fight now, Potter?" he asked, his voice slow and rasping.  
  
Harry's tears fell on Hermione and he welcomed them. If Fawkes' tears could cure him, surely his tears, the tears of one who truly loved her could cure her? But the tears formed and fell uselessly, and still Hermione was nothing more than a bundle of rags and flesh and bone in his arms. He pressed her close.  
  
"'Mione?" he asked again, his voice so choked he could barely get her name out, and behind him he heard Voldemort begin to chant the spell that would kill him, but he didn't care because surely, surely if he stayed there, something, anything could be done to bring Hermione back, and grasping her with the last of his strength, he pulled her towards him as the green fire hit his back and tore through his flesh..  
  
*************************  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Hermione woke suddenly, having fallen asleep in front of the fire. She listened carefully. She couldn't hear Harry calling..but Ron...Ron had shouted, and he was calling her name. She ran up the stairs.  
  
Harry lay on the bed, soaked in his own sweat, rapidly cooling in the November night.  
  
"Get Madame Pomfrey." Hermione ordered. Although Harry's eyes were open, he stared only at the ceiling, and wouldn't acknowledge either of them. He just lay there, shivering, staring at the canopy above, his face fixed in a mask of horror.  
  
"Who did he dream of? He won't say. Who did dream of to make him like this?" Ron pleaded, almost in tears.  
  
"Me, Ron." Hermione said shortly. "He dreamed of me. Now get Madame Pomfrey." 


	4. Farewell

Harry didn't wake up for four days. And all that time Hermione stayed there, sitting by his bed, watching. On the third day, Dumbledore came to visit, and he sat down beside her. For a while he just stayed there, watching Hermione's profile in the clear sharp winter sunlight, the halo her hair created around her, the set, strong expression in the eyes.  
  
Finally Dumbledore said,  
  
"He dreamed of you?"  
  
"He dreamed of me." Hermione said, not turning to look at him, but still watching Harry, her hands folded in her lap. "He dreamed of me and failed. Voldemort killed him."  
  
"Pardon me my dear, but how do you know?"  
  
"I walked in his dreams." Hermione said shortly, unapologetically.  
  
"I see. I believe that spell is only to be found in the restricted section of the library." Dumbledore said mildly. Hermione turned to face him, and her face was unapologetic.  
  
"I wasn't going to let him face that alone." she said simply.  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
They stayed silent for a little while longer, Hermione watching Harry again.  
  
"When he wakes up.." Dumbledore finally started to stay.  
  
"He will have to make a choice." Hermione finished. "me, or the will to face Voldemort."  
  
"He believes his love for you to be a weakness." Dumbledore said, and a brief flash of warmth flashed through Hermione's face as he said love. "He is, of course, mistaken."  
  
"But he won't choose me." Hermione said harshly. "He's destined to kill Voldemort, and he won't allow anything to stand in his way, not even me."  
  
"He did not know he loved you." Dumbledore told her. "He is still too afraid of that to choose anything other than to send you away."  
  
"But I always loved him." Hermione said, standing. "Enough to spare him having to tell me he can't love me to my face. When he tells you...tell him I already know." Dumbledore nodded. "But.." and Hermione's face was suddenly very young, very soft in the flickering candlelight. "if he does choose me....?"  
  
"I will send him to you." Dumbledore promised. Hermione nodded. Than she bent over Harry, and kissed him gently on the lips.  
  
"Even if you never speak to me again, even if you spend your entire life away from me, even if you never say you love me, I will never NEVER leave you alone." she straightened up, and nodding once at Dumbledore, she walked out of the infirmary and out of Harry's life. 


	5. Wrong Choice

TWO YEARS LATER  
Its been two years. Two years since I last spoke to Hermione, and I don't regret a second of it. I know its better. I ..I loved her. Or at least, I was close to it. I would have done, fallen for her. And what would have happened then? Voldemort would have used her against me. He would have killed her to destroy me. I couldn't have that happen. I know I'm destined to destroy Voldemort. I know I have to be strong. There should be no weakness, no way he can get to me. And I could have stood anything but Hermione's death, when I believed I loved her  
  
And at least she's alive. And that's good. I can see her, see her with her friends. Every day I've seen her. I've watched her grow into a young woman. And I've watched her learn, her knowledge has outstripped mine. And bit by bit, I've see my friends drift to her. At first she was alone. Then, one by one, they started to crowd around her. There's something about Hermione I never saw before, a certain air, of strength, even of leadership.  
  
It's good I don't love her anymore. I'd be jealous of the hurried conference she has with others in the corridor, the conversation that falls silent when I enter the common room, the hours she spends, no one knows where.  
  
But I don't love her. Love is a weakness, that would destroy me. And Voldemort is coming. I can feel it. My scar aches every day now, all the time. I can feel him, there's darkness, a heaviness in the air. I practice curses and counter curses everyday, and with every word I mutter, I imagine him there, in front of me, dying, by my hand. And its good I'm always alone now. There's nothing that can be turned against me, no hostages to my fate, no-one I need worry about any more.  
  
I didn't want to fight him near Hogwarts, so when the time came, when I knew Voldemort was near, I went to see Dumbledore, to ask him to let me go away, to face Voldemort anywhere other than here.  
  
It was April, a warm spring night. I stood by the window, looking down onto the fields, waiting for him, gazing down. There were some boys down there, duelling. It was a joke to them, they laughed, and yelled and joked, and I envied them their joy, their freedom.  
  
"Harry." Dumbledore said, surprising me.  
  
"Sir." I said. "I've come to ask..."  
  
"I know what you've come to ask." He said seriously. "I cannot hold you, Harry. You must do what you think is best."  
  
"I think its best if I leave, sir."  
  
He said nothing, but smiled, and looked out the window.  
  
"Do you remember another time we stood here, you and I?" he asked, so faint I could barely hear him. "I warned you of the test that was to come, and you assured me you would not fail."  
  
"And I didn't, Sir."  
  
"You failed Voldemort's test."  
  
"But I faced my weakness, and turned away from it."  
  
"But there was another test you failed that night."  
  
Suddenly I could hear the voices from the green below, although they were so far away, and I knew it was magic. I could hear Ron shouting, and Neville complaining and Seamus swearing, and through it all, like a bell, Hermione's voice, telling them where they went wrong, suggesting counter curses, and I listened so hard.  
  
"There was no other test." I said softly, staring down at Hermione. The witches and wizards listened intently to her, and though she was so far away, I could see, the hair floating round her solemn face, her eyes, darker now, so dark, and I wondered how I had ever found her plain, when the fire of power for good shone in her face.  
  
"There was another test. There was Voldemort's, and there was your own. You faced Voldemort's, and lost your own."  
  
"My own?"  
  
"You took the easy road, Harry. You had a choice to face yourself, with all your faults and weaknesses, and embrace them, or to push away any part of yourself you were afraid of."  
  
I didn't understand. Surely I had done the right thing? I was becoming who I was destined to be. I was becoming the man who would kill Voldemort. I made hard choices, but they were right. I had no weakness now. Nothing Voldemort could use against me.  
  
"You may need help." Dumbledore said, turning away from the window.  
  
"No, I..."  
  
"You will," he insisted firmly, but gently, "There is a girl's bathroom..I believe you call it Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. You will find help there."  
  
It was an obvious dismissal. I turned to leave, sceptical. What could the children who thronged this place know of darkness and evil, of Voldemort and his followers? What help could I find here?  
  
As I opened the door, Dumbledore said,  
  
"You forgot what your mother taught you."  
  
"My mother?" I asked, my back still to him.  
  
"Surely your mother taught you what is the greatest strength, the greatest gift, the greatest power of all?"  
  
I turned back to him, but he was feeding Fawkes, as if he'd never spoken at all. Slowly I turned away, and walked down the steps. 


	6. Mother's Lesson

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I hadn't been there in ages..two years in fact. I remembered, all too clearly, how the three of us had lounged in there, mixing potions safe from the rest of the school, swapping homework, telling stories, laughing and living, so young, back when we were children. I'd never gone back, knowing Hermione still went there.  
  
As I approached, I was surprised to see light coming from under the door. And the babble of voices from inside. And then, I heard Hermione.  
  
"Alright, " she was saying, "There's been rumours..just rumours so far, about Deatheaters in Hogsmeade. Someone left a Deathmark on the sweetshop..which sounds like a Slytherin prank to me. But check it out please."  
  
"What about the forest?" I heard Seamus ask.  
  
"I'll check it out with Hagrid." Hermione said, her voice capable and confident.  
  
I pushed open the door. The bathroom was full to overflowing, with students. Neville, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, even Draco lounging against the wall. And standing against the sink..leaning up against the entrance to the chamber of secrets, was Hermione. She jumped slightly when I entered, and every hand in the room reached for their wand, but relaxed when I entered.  
  
"What do you want, Potter?" Draco snarled, and I prepared to snarl back, but Hermione merely said,  
  
"Draco." quietly, and he subsided.   
  
"Hermione?" I asked, staring at her. She'd changed so much. She was still no conventional beauty, but she had something cleaner, purer. A goodness, a sense of power, a light in her, that burned bright and clean. It was no wonder she'd drawn such a crowd around her. She was magnetic. And now I was finally looking at her, I knew I'd never look away again.   
  
"You'd all better go now." Hermione said. They filed out past me, Neville muttering,   
  
"About time you came back."  
  
Until only Ron, Hermione and I were left in the bathroom.  
  
"Hermione, what's going on?" I asked, bemused.  
  
"Oh, so you do remember her name." Ron said, not nastily, joking, like we used to  
  
"Ron." Hermione said exasperated. "A few of us..well we thought when the time came, you might need help, so a few of us decided to get together, learn a few things, keep an eye on things."  
  
"Draco too?" I asked, amazed.  
  
"Hermione talked him into it." Ron said, proudly. "In fact Hermione arranged this whole thing, all of us. She's our general, sort of. And we're an army. Her army."  
  
"Your army." Hermione said to me. "If you need it."  
  
"I..I don't know what to say." I stammered, as she stood before me. All this time, I thought I was alone. I thought I would have no-one behind me as I fought, and this woman, this woman I'd selfishly pushed aside had done all this, created so much, for me.  
  
"Sorry would be good." Ron said. "Weren't you going to the dark forest?" he asked Hermione.  
  
"Yes. Do you want to come?" she asked me. "Ron's staying here. One of us is always inside Hogwarts." She said.  
  
I followed her out, completely wordless, Ron grinning like an idiot behind me.  
  
**********************  
  
"Hermione.." I started to explain, but she stopped me.  
  
"Don't." she said. "Don't explain. I know why you did what you did. You don't have to tell me."  
  
"How do you know?" I asked, wondering if Dumbledore had told her. She sighed, as we left the castle, past Hagrid's hut. We were so engrossed in our conversation, we never thought to stop and ask for Hagrid to come with us.  
  
"I walked in your dreams, those two months." She explained. "I saw you dream me dying."  
  
"Oh."  
  
I'd thought I'd suffered alone, but she was must have been there, all the time, every dream. I should have expected no less from my fiercely protective friend, but I'd been so wrapped up in my own horrors, I'd never even thought about it.  
  
"Have you walked in my dreams since?" I started to ask, but she snapped,  
  
"No!" and I left it there. Hermione had a sense of honour. She would never have done that. Probably.  
  
"Um, where are we going?" I asked her, as we wondered further into the Dark Forest.  
  
"A first year saw someone 'weird' in here." She explained. "I'm going to check this things out, ask the centaurs if they've seen anything."  
  
"At night?" I questioned.  
  
"I have lessons during the day!" she said, scandalised I'd suggested missing lessons. I grinned. There was still the same old Hermione in this leader of witches and fighter of the Dark forces. "I doubt it's anything." She continued.  
  
"I'm not sure." I said. "My scar's been burning a lot."  
  
"Let me see." She said, frowning, reaching up and pushing my hair aside to see my scar, like she had the first time I told her about my dreams. And like then, her hand was cool on the heat of my scar, and I closed my eyes, just to take in for one second Hermione's hand, soothing me.  
  
She dropped her hand to my arm, and when I opened my eyes, there was a new expression on her face, nervous, and unsure.  
  
"I know why..I know why you pushed me away." She said, stammering. "I know how you felt."  
  
"I'm sorry.." I started to say, but she put her fingers on my lip and shushed me.  
  
"I just..I wanted to say..you don't know, but I promised you when you were sleeping, I'd never leave you alone. and I never have. There's always been somebody there, watching you, looking out for you. We've defeated the odd Deatheater sent for you. We've ..I've kept you safe. I kept my promise."  
  
"I'm sorry.."  
  
"No, Harry, its my time to talk. When I promised, I told Dumbledore that if you changed your mind, if you decided to ....to risk it, to send you to me. And every day I waited for you. Every day I hoped you would come. And every day I went to bed crying because you didn't, and I needed you and loved you so much, but you never came. But today you did, and now Harry, you have to tell me why. Why did you come to me tonight, Harry Potter?"  
  
Her little speech was brave, but tears pooled in her eyes. She bit her lower lip impatiently to stop it trembling, and her hand grasped my sleeve.  
  
"Dumbledore sent me." I said slowly.  
  
"Why? Why did he send you?" she demanded.  
  
What had he said? 'My mother had surely taught me'. All my mother had had time to do was die for me. She died through love of me. That was why I'd rejected love. No-one was going to die because they loved me ever again.  
  
But because she died..because she loved me so much, I lived. I survived. I'd been protected against Voldemort. And even now, there was still my scar, my protection, my warning against Voldemort. Because she loved me.  
  
"My mother taught me," I said slowly, almost whispering, "that the greatest gift, the greatest strength, the greatest power of all," I whispered, pushing Hermione's hair back from her face, "is love."  
  
And then I bent down, to her tear-stained, up-turned face, and kissed her, gently, so sweetly. And she pulled me down, and pulled me into an even more passionate kiss, and I drowned in her, in her innocence and sweetness and bravery and goodness, and I loved her, I love her, so much. 


	7. Failed

After a while, we finally pulled back, and she stepped back, looking at me, her eyes shining, crying and laughing at the same time.  
  
"Just to get things straight." She said, as efficient as Hermione of old. "You're saying you love me, right?"  
  
I laughed.  
  
"Yes, Hermione." I agreed.  
  
"Good. At least that's settled. Now lets see if we can find this thing the first year saw. Its probably just Aragog or something."  
  
I followed her, grinning like my face would split, followed her deeper into the forest. She never said a thing, but I could hear her sniff occasionally, and then laugh, just a little giggle, she almost skipped, she was so happy, and I'd done this. I just wanted to pull her back into another kiss, and another, and then talk, and laugh, and then kiss some more, to make up for the past two years, to show her, to show me, how much I truly truly loved her. And I reached out, to grab her arm, to pull her towards me.  
  
And as my fingers brushed her sleeve, I saw something dark and amorphous flit past me, out of the corner of my eye, and my scar seared, burning, so I almost screamed.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione asked. I was bent double with pain, the pain from the scar.  
  
"He's here, oh God, Hermione, he's here, leave." I pleaded, and I could suddenly remember the dream, the green flash, and her body, lying helpless on the ground.  
  
"No, I won't leave." She insisted, and she sent a fireball from her wand up into the sky, where Ron would see it.  
  
"He's here!" I screamed.. "Please Hermione, leave, leave now!"  
  
"No! You can't handle him yourself, not like this!"  
  
I could see him now, flitting round, behind, through the trees, so close, and I tried to reach for my wand, but the pain was too much, I couldn't even hold on to Hermione, I couldn't move.  
  
"You have to go! I dreamed this! I know how it ends!" I cried  
  
"I was there. I know too, and I'm not leaving" she insisted, standing up straight and tall beside me, as I crouched even more and more in pain.  
  
And then time slowed, almost to a stop. I saw him come out of the woods, and he had no wand, but power gathered in his fingers, and Hermione span round to face him, he spoke a word, and her wand flew out of her fingers, and still I could not move, and he cried 'Avada Kedrava' and I summoned the last of my strength and pulled Hermione out of the way of the green blast, and felt it tear into me as I protected her, my love, my life. But then, as I died, I saw him approach her again..and heard the words spoken again..Avada Kedrava...and knew I'd failed..she was going to die..I'd killed her. 


	8. Hermione

****************  
  
They found me, at dawn, under Harry's body. I was unconscious, and knew nothing of what had happened. There was no trace of Voldemort. In the cold grey dawn, Ron carried me home, and Hagrid, weeping all the way, carried Harry's limp body back to Hogwarts.  
  
I woke just in time to see them lay him out on the bed, his eyes open, his breath gone, those lips that had kissed me only last night blue and cold, the laughter gone out of his face.  
  
I didn't cry. I just stood by his bed, and Ron beside me, until Dumbledore came.  
  
"He was right." I said.  
  
"Right?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"It was because of me he was out there. It's because he loved me that he died, protecting me. He was supposed to save us from Voldemort, and instead, he's dead, and its because of me."  
  
Dumbledore looked up, surprised at the bitterness in my tone.  
  
"My dear," he said gently, "Harry was never the one that was fated to lead us against the Dark Forces. You were."  
  
"No, that's not right.." I began..  
  
"A muggle-born witch so powerful she could do any spell every written, even some I cannot do? Someone who can turn back time at 13? Who already leads an army at 17? You, my dear, are powerful, and good, and you are the one destined to lead us, not poor Harry."  
  
"Then what was that all about? Why did Harry survive? Why did he have the scar?" I cried.  
  
"For you." Dumbledore said gently. "He was born to protect you, and to pass on his most powerful gift to you. You were born to be hidden, until the time was right. The time was right now, and no-one is sorrier than I that it had to begin with Harry's death." He stroked the black hair -unnaturally tidy now- gently. "He was a son to me. A brilliant, innocent, mysterious, challenging son, and I was proud of him" Dumbledore murmured, his voice full of tears.  
  
"What gift? "I said through my tears. "I don't understand."  
  
"Hermione..haven't you seen your face?" Ron asked, shocked.  
  
"I haven't really had time to look in the mirror." I snapped. Ron took me by the hand, and led me over to the mirror on the wall. I stared into it for a second, seeing only my own face, drawn and darkened by grief. Then Ron reached up, and pushed my heavy hair aside from my cheek.  
  
Running down it was a jagged scar.  
  
I traced the dark ridge of the scar with my trembling finger.  
  
"How?" I breathed.  
  
"Harry loved you so much he died for you, protecting you." Ron said, his voice full of unbroken sobs. "Just like his mother died for him. Voldemort tried the Avada Kedrava curse on you, but it rebounded on him, and just left you the scar."  
  
"The greatest gift Harry had to give..."  
  
"Was love." I finished Dumbledore's sentence.  
  
"You are now protected against Voldemort, by the power of Harry's love." Dumbledore said. "Just like Harry, your scar will always warn you of Voldemort's presence, of the presence of any evil. He has finally passed on his legacy to you, who was always destined to hold it."  
  
They left me there, standing in front of the mirror. And as I watched, touching my scar, I saw him, just for a second. He appeared, a shadow in the glass, looking at me with eyes glowing with such love, I can never forget it.  
  
"Remember, Hermione." He said, in a whisper so soft it never stirred the air, "I will never NEVER leave you alone."  
  
And as he reached out, and faded, I felt his last touch, soft against my scar.  
THE END 


End file.
